Page 14 of Threaded

Minus the stolen dagger and misappropriated coin, of course.

Beva reappeared then, carrying a tray laden with ale and steaming beef pot pies. She set the food and drink in front of Mariah, once again wiping her hands on her apron before glancing down at the floor around them. Mariah leaned forward, inhaling the rich scents of the meat—and was that tarragon?—wafting from the plate.

“These your bags? Let me take them up to your rooms while you eat.”

Mariah started, “No, that’s alright, we ca—”

Her father interrupted her with a gentle kick under the table. “That would be lovely, Beva. Thank you.” He smiled warmly up at her, a smile she returned to him before picking up the saddlebags from the floor, along with a carefully wrapped parcel Mariah somehow hadn’t noticed when they were untacking their horses. Mariah's gaze tracked the woman as she strode from the room and up the stairs, her heart fluttering at the sight of the canvas sack she could see just barely sticking out from one of her saddlebags.

“If you had said no, she would’ve just sat there and stared at me from the corner until I let her take the bags up. Just easier to go ahead and let her be the host she is.” He paused, chewing his food. “She wouldn’t poke her nose into things that aren’t her business. It's just … it's better to not flash too much coin around, even here in the mountain district. Better to take the hospitality for what it is and save what you can for when you need it.”

Mariah nodded to her father, jaw tight, eyes still fixed on the innkeeper. When Beva disappeared from her sight, she whipped her head to him.

“What was in that parcel she took up with the bags?”

Wex started, eyes going wide, then relaxed and shook his head wistfully. “Sometimes, I forget how observant you are. I guess I should pat myself on the back for that. Goddess knows why I was ever worried about you the other night.”

Mariah didn’t respond, opting instead to take a bite of her pot pie and a sip of ale, her expectant gaze never leaving her father.

Wex sighed, leaning back and taking a sip from his own pint. “Fine. Consider it a … birthday present. Another one. From myself and your mother.” He paused. “Well, alright. Mainly from your mother. She picked it out some time ago, actually. Saved up then had a seamstress in town make it custom. She somehow always knew you’d one day need to wear something other than boots and leggings.”

It was Mariah’s turn to look stunned, her jaw slackening, freezing with a bite of food halfway to her mouth. “You and mom saved up and bought me adress?” Pure shock—and a little bit of anger—coursed through her veins. Her parents were robbed by their lord because they’d been unable to pay taxes. She knew how hard her parents worked foreverything, how many years her father had spent in service to the crown, how many long hours her mother still spent at the clinic, just to ensure she and Ellan had a warm meal three times a day. Not that Mariah didn’t have a secret taste for the finer things in life—that canvas sack certainly was proof of that—but for them to splurge on something as ludicrous as a gown for her, without even knowing if she would ever actuallywearit …

It was decided. She would make a trip back to Andburgh one day, just to scold her mother for attempting to gift her with thisnonsensewhile simultaneously charging her to recover a dagger that’d been lost when they were unable to pay what their lord demanded.

Seeing the rising anger in his daughter’s face, Wex backtracked quickly. “Mariah, calm down. It didn’t set us back much at all, I promise. Your mother was adamant we do this for you, and you know I can never say no to her. Just … take a look at it first. Then you can decide what to do with it. But I know your mother would be beyond thrilled if you wore it tomorrow.”

Mariah closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. She counted to five silently to herself, her roiling emotions slowly returning to their normal contained cacophony, before opening her eyes and meeting her father’s gaze.

“Just … please tell me it’s not some awful monstrosity exploding with tulle and lace.”

Wex, relieved, roared with laughter.

“Do you think we don’t know you at all? Of course it is.”

* * *

As it turned out, there wasn’t a scrap of tulle or lace on the gown her mother had designed for her.

Beva, with all her cunning intuition and innate kindness, had somehow known exactly what that package contained. When Mariah trudged up the stairs, exhausted from their five, hard days of riding to reach the capital in time for the Choosing, she’d found its contents gently unwrapped, hanging up beside the full-length mirror adoring a corner of the cozy room so it could unfold and breathe.

Mariah sat on the soft feather bed, legs crossed beneath her, and leaned back on her hands as she stared at the dress. Upon reflection, she wasn’t at all surprised her mother had commissioned something so deliciously perfect, even if anger at its very existence and the expense of it still bubbled under her skin. Lisabel had always known exactly who her daughter was since the earliest of Mariah’s memories and had never asked Mariah to hide or change a single morsel of it.

Mariah smiled softly to herself, thinking about what tomorrow might bring. This dress would cause quite a stir at the palace, she was sure of it; it was so different from the styles usually favored by Onitan women, yet Mariah wouldn’t have it any other way. For a fleeting moment, she let herself dream about what may happen when the moons set and the sun rose in the sky, when she donned that dress and made her way to the palace, of the stunned silence that’d follow when she walked up those stairs, a smug smile on her lips. She would stand in the back of whatever room they lined her up in, watch the new queen be Chosen, and then would slip back out the way she came. But instead of returning to this inn, she would make her way down to the market district, her bag of gold and silver and bronze coin in hand. Maybe she would board one of those ships and pay for passage to the Kizar Islands; she’d always dreamed of cavorting with the pirates who called the archipelago home. This was what she’d spent her whole life, ever since that night when she was nine years old, dreaming about. The reason she’d let her father train her so relentlessly, why she’d risked everything to scale the walls of a lord’s manor just to retrieve an old dagger and a sack full of coin.

So that one day, she could step foot into the world alone and never look back.

CHAPTER6

The slight rocking of the carriage for hire was enough to bring on a wave of queasiness. Mariah leaned her head back against the cool lacquered wood and shut her eyes, inhaling deeply.

She refused to admit she was nervous. Her hands might’ve been shaking, a thin layer of sweat may have clung to her skin beneath her gray cloak, but it was absolutely not from nerves. She told herself she was ready to face whatever that day might bring.

Not nervous, not nervous, not nervous …

The words were a mantra, but each time she repeated them, she only felt more nauseous.

Glancing up at the roof of the carriage, she again wondered where her father had managed to secure the cabbie. With the amount of people who must now be in the city for the Choosing, she’d fully expected to get herself to the palace that morning on her own. She’d gotten dressed quickly, slipping into the gown before styling her hair and applying simple makeup to her face—a sweep of gold shimmer across her eyelids, a line of kohl along her upper lash-line. It’d been just enough to make the deep, glowing green of her eyes pop against her tan skin. Just as she’d stepped out of her room, wrapped in her cloak and prepared to head down to the stables to saddle Kodie, Wex had emerged from his own room to stop her. He’d taken her hand and squeezed it gently before dropping it and telling her to follow him. They’d walked out the front door of the inn and, sure enough, the cabbie was there patiently waiting, her father telling her the driver was hers for the day.

---